


Ties that Bind

by Cheru-chan1316 (cmbebop)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, ghost hughes, ghost riza, ghost winry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmbebop/pseuds/Cheru-chan1316
Summary: Riza dies tragically in an accident leaving a grieving Roy to raise their 5yr old son, Maes, by himself. Only, Roy isn't as alone as he thinks. Ed and Al, along with Ed's 2yr old daughter, Sarah, are there to help Roy piece his life back together. But then there are the ghosts to consider. Apparently you don't just immediately move on to the next life once you die. Stuck in a sort of limbo, Riza, Winry, and Hughes team up to help their loved ones so that everyone can finally move on.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you didn't read the tags, heads up, there's character death and angst in theses first few chapters. The story will eventually be less heartbreaking, and there will be a happy ending. Tags will be updated as the story goes on. The rating may eventually change; if it does I will put a warning in the author's notes.

The doors to General Roy Mustang’s office burst open and the General, who was on the phone this moment with another very important General, glanced up in annoyance half expecting Edward Elric to be standing in front of his desk; never mind that Fullmetal had, in fact, not been a part of his team for close to eight years now. Instead he met the wide, almost fearful dark-blue eyes of his five-year-old son, Maes. 

Mustang could hear raised and agitated voices coming from the hall and gave his son a pointed look, wondering why the boy wasn’t in school and how he’d gotten from there to the office in the first place. Excusing himself from his phone conversation with promises to call back once he sorted the matter at hand out, Roy set the phone back in its cradle and began to ask, “Maes, what are you do –” when a large crash of thunder interrupted him. His son, who happened to have an irrational fear of thunderstorms, let out a squeak of alarm and bolted around the desk and into his father’s arms. The General picked the boy up, setting him in his lap, and smoothed back his son’s silky black hair that was so much like his own.

“It’s just thunder, kiddo. It’s not going to hurt you,” he soothed as another deep rumble shook the glass in the windows. Maes mumbled something into the breast of his father’s military jacket, his grip tightening. Roy sighed, wondering where Riza was, because surely it was the boy’s mother who took him out of school. He sincerely hoped that the school hadn’t called her to come pick the boy up because of the storm. They’d talked to Maes about the storm before Havoc came to pick him up for school, and he’d thought they’d convinced their son that he’d be safe there. 

Roy glanced out the window at the swaying trees, illuminated by bright flashes of lightning, the rain coming down in sheets, leaving the world oddly colorless. Trees and power lines had been downed; Headquarters had only recently had their power returned. The storm had rolled in sometime during the night and showed no signs of letting up any time soon. The General patted the boy’s back imagining the long sleepless night he and Riza had ahead of them.

Major Jean Havoc’s head peaked through the doorway and the General was struck by the Major’s pale and rather shaken countenance as well as the sudden eerie silence from the hall. 

Roy raised an eyebrow at his subordinate and asked, “Havoc, why is Maes here? And where is Riza?”

The Major came around the corner and swallowed thickly, his voice sounding oddly strangled. “There was a call, Sir, while you were on the phone with General Grey. There’s been an accident.”

The General startled in surprise, pulling his son away from him and quickly checking the boy over, having not considered the possibility that the boy’s fretful behavior had to do with something other than the storm. But Maes seemed to be in one piece, if not a little upset. 

Roy looked back up at Havoc, confused. 

The Major looked as if he were about to be sick and said, “It’s the Colonel, Sir. She’s gone.”

Maes sniffled and clung to his father and Roy just blinked. “What?”

“Riza’s dead, Sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was a car crash. 

The other driver never saw her through the rain, they said. 

She put on the breaks and the car slid on the standing water, they said. 

The car rolled down the embankment and she was probably unconscious before she even hit the river, they said. 

She probably didn’t feel a thing, they said.

He knew they were lying.

He could see the car plunging into the churning icy waters, his wife bleeding from the broken glass and jagged snarls of metal, slightly disoriented, struggling with the twisted seatbelt as the mangled vehicle filled with water, the cold biting into her and stealing her breath. She was a fighter. She would have fought for her life. 

It was just unfathomable that she’d lost.

His beautiful, terrifying, wonderful, stubborn, insightful, amazing wife was gone.

My God, he thought, clenching his teeth and choking back tears. She’s gone. What am I going to do? What about Maes. His mother is – he’s lost his mom. What is he going to do? What am I supposed to do?

He stood staring at the grave marker and the freshly turned earth, hardly feeling the bitter wind. His heart was so much colder. 

He hardly noticed when the hand settled on his shoulder, but the owner’s warm rich tenor drew his attention. He didn’t look away from the spot where Riza lay, but he listened to what was being said, trying to understand.

“Come on, Roy. We should get you and Maes out of the cold,” that soothing voice said.

“What?” he questioned, his own voice flat and emotionless. The words did not quite make sense.

The hand on his shoulder tightened marginally and the voice repeated itself patiently. “It’s time to go, Roy. We need to get Maes home, feed him some dinner, and get him to bed.”

That’s right. I need to take care of Maes. Maes needs me.

The General stirred himself then, surprised at how cold and stiff he’d gotten. Concern for his son flashed momentarily through him, but he spotted the boy playing quietly in the grass a little ways away with little Sarah and ‘Uncle’ Alphonse, seemingly content for the time being. 

Roy glanced around the cemetery, looking a little lost.

“Roy?”

He met Edward’s eyes this time, that warm gold filled with sadness and concern. 

“Where is everyone?” he asked in that same lifeless voice as before.

“They left hours ago,” Ed said quietly.

“Oh.”

“Come on, let’s get you and Maes home.” The blond’s hand tugged gently in the direction of the car, but Roy turned back to the grave with an almost panicked expression. He couldn’t even begin to think about leaving her here alone in this dark, quiet, cold place. 

“But –”

“It’s okay,” Ed said soothingly, his hand slipping into Roy’s and pulling him again towards the car. 

The general looked over his shoulder feeling torn and desperate despite the comforting words and the warm, steady hand. 

“But –”

Ed was gentle but relentless, speaking softly like one might to a small child, always directing him closer to the car and further from the freshly turned grave. He was vaguely aware that Alphonse was following closely behind with the children, but the majority of his thoughts were on Edward and Riza.

Riza.

Roy briefly wondered why it was that heartbreak didn’t kill a person instantly. It should. But it didn’t.

The next thing he knew he was sitting in the back of the car. Maes crawled into his lap and snuggled close, looking up at his father with Riza’s wide solemn eyes; the coloring was Roy’s, but the shape was hers. Roy felt the telltale prickling in the back of his eyes and wrapped his arms around his son, burying his face in the boy’s hair and trying unsuccessfully to stifle the sobs forming in the back of his throat. 

Maes didn’t protest, instead his little hand patted his father’s shoulder awkwardly and said, “It’s okay, dad. Uncle Ed says mom wouldn’t want us to be sad.” But his little voice wavered a bit belying his true feelings.

The General grit his teeth and tried to choke back his tears not knowing what was worse, his son trying to be strong for him or the fact that Ed was right, Riza wouldn’t want him to be sad. In fact, the woman would expect him to continue on without her, efficient and strong, for Maes if not for himself. 

But how could he? The thought of living without her hurt. Just the past few days had been unbearable. And he was supposed to continue on for the rest of his life without her? Impossible. Who would force him to do his paperwork? Who would shoot at him if he was being an idiot? Who would he wake up next to every morning? Who would watch his back?

Alphonse glanced at Ed who was looking out the passenger window, his face expressionless. The older brother caught the younger’s movement in the reflection of the window and turned to meet his eyes. The brother’s exchanged a knowing look before Al’s eyes returned to the road, glancing in the rear-view mirror every few moments to watch father and child in the back. Sarah sat quietly next to the pair watching the sober scene before her, but not really understanding what was going on.

Al gave his brother a questioning look motioning slightly with a tilt of his head towards Mustang and Maes. Ed nodded and then returned to looking out the window. The younger brother sighed quietly, more than tired of funerals concerning loved ones. For once he’d like to get together with family and close friends and smile instead of cry.

The car pulled in to Mustang’s drive. Roy didn’t even notice he was home until Maes scrambled out of his lap and Edward stood by the car door waiting for the General to get out. The dark-haired alchemist stared up at the blond with a hopeless expression. 

“Ed, I – I – what do I do?” Roy asked desperately, startling himself with the depth of emotion in his voice.

“Try getting out of the car,” the blond suggested, holding out his hand.

The General blinked, thinking, for a moment, that Ed was being an ass, only realizing he was quite serious once he met the blond’s eyes. 

“How is that going to help anything,” Roy asked bitterly, taking Edward’s hand anyway.

“One step at a time, Roy.”

The General glowered at the blond. “You know you’re words can be taken multiple ways, Fullmetal. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were being condescending,” Roy snapped, feeling unreasonably angry. 

“I’m glad you know better, then,” the blond said calmly, pulling the older man out of the car, not put off by his anger. Anger was a good thing at this point, but Ed wasn’t going to let the man lure him into a fight, which was exactly what Roy was doing by using his old name. Roy never called him Fullmetal anymore unless he was trying to make him angry.

Roy colored at that remark, bristling and jerking his hand out of Edward’s. 

Ed could see the emotion in the General’s eyes; anger, resentment, sadness, confusion, but most of all pain. Ed felt his own heart twist in his chest, remembering that pain all too clearly.

Roy could see that pain reflected in the blond’s eyes and the anger left him suddenly. “Ed I didn’t – I just – I didn’t mean… I’m sorry,” the General finished quietly.

“I understand,” Ed said simply.

And Roy knew he did.

By this time Al had come back outside to see what was taking them so long. “You guys coming in or are the kids and I going to eat by ourselves?” 

Ed raised an eyebrow at Roy clearly indicating the choice was his. Roy nodded slowly and Ed cleared his throat and called, “We’ll be right in, Al.”

Roy felt a sudden rush of surprise and relief, realizing that Ed wasn’t going to leave him by himself. Out of all the people he could choose to stand by him in this situation, he’d pick Ed. And it appeared that he wouldn’t have to even ask the younger man. Ed seemed to just instinctually know that Roy needed him.

The blond took him by the arm then and led him into the house. Ed closed the door behind them and a moment later they were bombarded by the children.

“Dad! Dad! Uncle Al’s going to make Chicken Fettuccini Alfredo for dinner! And he says I get to help him cook!” Maes said, tragedy momentarily forgotten in childish excitement. 

“Fe-chi-ni, Fe-chi-ni,” Sarah sang in the tuneless chant of a two-year-old, blond curls bouncing as she hopped around Maes.

Roy smiled. Or at least he hoped it was a smile. “That’s nice,” he said. 

Having his father’s approval, the boy darted back down the hall yelling for Al not to start without him, Sarah hot on his heels. 

Roy glanced at Ed, who watched the children go, asking, “Will Sarah be okay in the kitchen?”

Edward looked surprised, but nodded with a wave of his hand saying, “She helps Al cook all the time, if you can call what she does help. It’s more like make a mess. Oh, but your kitchen will be alright,” the blond assured the General quickly, seeing his face, “Al will be sure it’s cleaned up. You know how tidy he is.”

The General made a noncommittal noise and looked away, his eyes catching on a photo of he and Riza on the mantle of the fireplace in the living room. 

Ed glanced over, after hanging up his coat in the closet, seeing what the General was looking at. With a deep internal sigh, Ed reached for Roy’s coat, tugging gently at the sleeves and slipping it off the taller man’s shoulders. The General allowed Ed to take the coat off him, hardly noticing. The younger man hung the immaculate black coat up next to his worn brown one before turning back his forlorn dark-haired friend.

“How do you get over it, Ed? How do you learn to – to breathe again,” Roy asked suddenly, startling the blond.

Taking a shaky breath, Ed replied, “You don’t. You never get over it. You never forget.” The blond cleared his throat, trying to hide the catch of emotion in his voice before continuing. “But you’ll find that breathing is…instinctual. You take things minute by minute and then hour by hour until those hours turn to days, days to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. You continue on because others need you. Maes needs you. But you never forget.”

Roy was surprised to find his vision blurred and blinked causing unshed tears to fall. He raised a shaky hand to brush them away but found that no matter how many he dried his eyes more tears quickly took the place of their fallen comrades. “I’m sorry,” the General said hurrying to defend himself, “I don’t know – I’m trying not to –”

Ed surprised him further by wrapping his arms around his one-time superior officer and pulling his head down to rest on his shoulder. “It’s okay to cry, Roy. I’m not going to tell anyone,” Edward whispered in the older man’s ear, stroking his hair gently. 

And the General did cry, returning the blond’s embrace, embarrassed and relieved to have a shoulder to cry on.

Alphonse stood watching the pair from the end of the hall with a sad smile on his face. He’d leave Ed to help Roy pick up the shattered pieces of his life and put them back together. If anyone could do it, it was Edward. The sound of breaking glass in the kitchen followed by Sarah’s “Uh-oh,” drew his attention away. He headed back into the kitchen to pick up the pieces of his own little problem, praying Ed and Roy wouldn’t kill him for leaving the children unattended for one second, and wishing he could still use alchemy to the problem. Whatever it was that broke, he’d have to ask the General to fix it later.

***

“Edward is so sweet,” Riza said quietly from the stairs where she watched the blond comfort her distraught husband.

“Edward is and idiot,” Winry countered, leaning on the railing and watching the scene bellow. “He’s the reason I can’t move on. You better hope he doesn’t give Roy too much advice or you’ll be stuck like I am.”

Riza glanced at the silvery apparition of the young woman to her right, amused to see the fond expression on her face, despite how the words sounded. That was the strange thing about being dead, or a ghost really; you couldn’t feel negative emotions at all. There was no pain, anger, or sadness. It was a rather annoying experience, or it would be if one could feel annoyed. 

Riza sighed, and turned back to her husband. Her mind told her she should be upset, heart-broken even, at having to leave her husband and son behind. But there was nothing, just a sort of acceptance that this is how it was and a sort of relief of being free of the flesh. She’d never realized how uncomfortable her body was when she was alive.

“So explain again how this works,” Riza ordered, her eyes not leaving Roy. “Why can’t we ‘move on’ so to speak?”

Winry gave a sigh of her own and glanced at the man standing behind them. “Why don’t you try explaining it this time, Mr. Hughes, since you’ve been like this for a decade now,” the girl suggested.

The tall ghost pushed his glasses up and leaned back against the wall crossing his arms casually. “Well, you see, we died. Everyone does you know,” he said quite happily, “But our souls become trapped here in the living world. We can’t continue with the ‘circle’ or ‘flow’ of life, so to speak, until our loved ones release us.”

“You’ve heard the expression ‘ties that bind’, yes?” Hughes asked, and when Riza nodded he continued. “Well, you see, it’s actually quite literal for the dead,” he said, holding up Winry’s wrist displaying a metal cuff with a fine, almost transparent chain leading directly to Edward. “The number of chains connected to you are equal to the number of ties that bind you to the living world.”

Riza glanced down at her own wrist. She had several chains, almost more than she could count while Winry only had the one leading to Edward. 

“As our friends and loved ones learn to accept our passing and move on with their lives, the chains will disappear one by one until there are none left. Keep in mind that accepting death and truly moving on are two very different concepts,” Hughes explained. "Accepting that someone is dead is much easier than moving past their death and carrying on with your life."

“But what about you?” Riza asked, gesturing to Hughes’ own wrist where only the metal cuff remained. No chains bound him to this world. 

Hughes scratched at his beard with a low chuckle. “The last step before moving on to the next life is overcoming yourself. Often a soul makes ties to objects or places or people or vengeance or they simply cannot accept their own death. There are countless things that trap the soul,” Hughes murmured. “The chains represent the living letting go. The cuff represents the dead learning to let go of the living world. You have to let go.”

Riza hummed. “Well, that is certainly food for thought,” she said.

“You’re telling me,” Winry said, walking down the stairs and towards the kitchen where Ed and Roy had moved some time ago. The smell of dinner and light conversation drifted through the hall. Riza and Hughes followed the young woman through the kitchen door – it was still strange to Riza to find that walls and doors were no longer barriers to her – and settled down to watch dinner commence.

Dinner was a relatively quiet affair. As they ate, the brothers kept shooting worried glances at Roy who was picking at his food more than eating it. The children ate with a single minded appetite that only children possess, chattering amiably to one another, Sarah sneaking her peas on to Al’s plate when he wasn’t looking and Maes sneaking his onto Sarah’s. Riza, who had stationed herself between the children, was more than slightly amused at their antics and couldn’t help a small laugh at Al’s puzzled look at his never ending pile of peas and Sarah’s innocent smile.

Towards the end of dinner, Alphonse stood up to retrieve the pan of brownies he and the children had made for dessert. Maes, in his eagerness to help, jumped off his chair, bumping his glass that was sitting too close to the edge of the table. Instinctively, Riza reached out to catch the glass.

It was strange, she could feel the smoothness of the glass and the cool wetness of the milk on her hand, but they passed right through her crashing onto the tiled floor below, splattering milk and shattering glass. 

The whole room seemed to freeze for a moment before Maes, wide eyed, scrambled out of his seat, repeating sorry over and over, and reached for the broken shards of glass.

“DON’T!” the two fathers in the room yelled in unison, freezing the boy in his tracks. Roy was around the table in an instant scooping his son up and carrying him to the other side of the table away from potential danger, Edward doing likewise with Sarah who was eyeing the mess with interest. 

“Daddy ang-wee?” Sarah asked, looking like she was trying to decide if the situation required tears or not, her gold eyes big and watery.

Edward rubbed her back soothingly. “No, sweetheart, I’m not mad,” he assured her as he watched Al quickly clean up the mess. “But broken glass can hurt you,” he explained.

“Owie?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement.

“Yes, owie,” Ed said, smiling fondly at his daughter.

“Oh,” she said. Then, after thinking it over for a moment, kicked her little legs and said, “No touch. Down, Daddy!”

With a glance to make sure Al was done picking up the glass, Ed set the squirming girl down on her feet and she was off like a shot, eager to help her uncle bring in the brownies while Maes finished getting a similar scolding from Roy.

Hughes patted Riza on the shoulder, the woman still staring at her hand in confusion. “I had it in my hands. I felt it,” she said.

“It’s an odd feeling, isn’t it?” the bespectacled man said. “You can feel but not touch or be touched, hear but not be heard, see but not be seen.”

“Is there any way to –to communicate; to let them know we’re here?” she asked, turning her gaze on her husband and son. 

“Yes, actually,” Winry murmured, joining the conversation, “you can communicate with them through their dreams. Though it rarely works. People don’t usually put much stock in their dreams.”

Hughes nodded sagely. “And don’t forget the ‘sensitives’.”

“The what?”

“The ‘sensitives’. People who have a sort of sixth sense concerning us ghosties,” Hughes said merrily. “You know, psychics, mediums, fortunetellers and the lot.”

By this time all living parties hand seated themselves at the table again, eating Al’s brownies with varying degrees of enjoyment. 

“Wait,” Riza said, “mediums? You mean like possessions?”

Winry nodded. “Yes, and I wouldn’t recommend it. If Roy is anything like Edward, he’s not going to appreciate a complete stranger walking up to him and relaying a ‘message’ from his dead wife. Ed nearly massacred the poor guy I possessed, and keep in mind that was without alchemy. I daresay Roy wouldn’t hesitate to barbecue the medium without a second thought.”

Riza winced in sympathy for the imaginary medium. “Surely such people aren’t common,” she said.

Hughes shook his head. “No, but it sure does give you a start when you happen across one. You get so used to being invisible and unnoticed that it nearly gives you a heart attack when one notices you.”

Winry laughed at that, a light carefree sound, Hughes joining her. Riza stared blankly at them, not getting what was so funny. The long dead man wiped at his eyes, though there were no tears to be seen. “Death references, you’ll learn to appreciate them,” he said in way of explanation. Riza rolled her eyes. 

Dinner finished up after that. Alphonse did the dishes while the kids helped him dry. Roy fixed the broken glass from dinner, as well as the mixing bowl the children had broken while Al had stepped out of the kitchen earlier that evening, before Ed ushered the General into the living room to relax a bit before bed. 

“Let’s get ready for bed,” Al said, once all the dishes were cleaned and put away.

Maes naturally protested, insisting that he wasn’t tired at all, but Sarah tugged at her uncle’s pant leg, demanding to be picked up. It was well past her bedtime and she was more than ready to go to sleep. Al started to usher the children upstairs when Maes suddenly remembered, “Black Hayate! We have to let him inside. He’s too old to be left out in the cold!” before darting back into the kitchen to the back door. 

“Uh-oh,” Winry and Hughes said together.

“What?” Riza asked, watching her son reach for the door handle.

Hughes gave Winry an amused look. “Well, he’s not going to bother me, since I’ve been around for a while. And he knows Riza. But you…”

“Say no more. I’ll go wait out front until things calm down,” Winry said, shifting through the kitchen wall. 

Maes had the door open by now and was standing on the patio calling for the dog.

“What’s wrong?” Riza demanded.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong really,” Hughes assured her. “It’s just – you know that superstition about dogs being able to see ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s not a superstition,” Hughes said with a shrug.

At that moment Hayate made his appearance, darting into the house, circling Hughes once before stopping abruptly in front of Riza, tail wagging, ears perked, waiting her command. Riza stared open mouth at her dog and her son scampered over to them, trying to get the old dog’s attention. 

“Hayate, Hayate! Don’t you want a treat?” the boy asked waiving a biscuit in front of the dog’s face. 

Hayate glanced at his young master and then back at his mistress, clearly indicating who he thought was superior despite Riza being dead. “Sit,” she ordered the dog and he sat obediently.

Maes frowned at the dog and looked to the spot Hayate was looking at so intently and then back at the hound. “Hayate, treat,” he said again, resting the snack on the dog’s cold wet nose. The dog continued to ignore the boy and Maes turned to Al and said, “Something’s wrong with Hayate.”

“Hmm…maybe he sees a ghost,” Al said jokingly, shifting a sleepy Sarah in his arms.

The boy seemed to find that notion funny and giggled. The idea of ghosts seemed ridiculous to Maes since both his mother and father assured him that they didn’t exist; they were nothing to fear. Laying the treat next to Hayate’s feet the boy said, “You’re silly Uncle Al.”

Alphonse shrugged and motioned for Maes to follow him. 

The boy gave the old dog a hug and a kiss on his graying muzzle saying “G’night, Hayate,” before joining Al by the kitchen door. Alphonse held the door open, motioning for Maes to lead the way, turning his back to the dog and the ghosts. 

Sarah, whose head was resting on her Uncle’s shoulder, waved, saying, “Nigh-night, doggie,” sleepily, and then, “Nigh-night, Auntie Riza.”

Riza gasped and Al froze, looking over his shoulder. “Sarah?” he questioned, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he glanced around the seemingly empty kitchen. The little girl had closed her eyes though, but Hayate still sat staring at seemingly nothing.

It can’t be, he assured himself. She’s just tired. It was just odd timing. Ghosts don’t exist. 

Al turned back around and walked down the hall, catching up to Maes who was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs but feeling like there were eyes on his back the whole way.

Back in the kitchen Riza turned to Hughes with a look of disbelief. “Surely she didn’t actually see me,” the translucent woman said in shock. “She couldn’t possibly be a – a –”

“A ‘sensitive’?” Hughes finished for her. The man stared at the kitchen door as if he could see through it with a contemplative look on his face. “I don’t think so. Or else she would have noticed us at dinner. And she certainly would have noticed her mother all these years. But it’s hard to tell with small children. She was just about asleep, so I think it’s more likely she was open to our energies in dream form. But time will tell.”

“I suppose,” Riza said, looking down at her dog, who was still waiting patiently for her command. She kneeled down pointing to the treat at the dog’s feet and said, “Hayate, treat.” The dog immediate bent down and ate the treat, tail wagging. She put her hand on the dog’s head, briefly feeling the soft fur and his warmth before her hand passed completely through him. “Good dog,” she murmured, before standing up and saying, “Now go keep Roy company.”

The old dog immediately jumped up and nosed his way through the kitchen door, obediently going to comfort his master as his mistress ordered him to. 

“Come on,” Hughes said, “Let’s go find Winry.”


End file.
